Yield Point
by MaliceUnchained
Summary: Lieutenant Pezhal has spent a lot of time and effort building her ideal team at Earth Spacedock. However, recent hostilities with the Klingons, and ongoing conflicts with the Tal Shiar, Elaachi, and multiple others threaten to drag her back to the one place she fears the most - the Captain's chair...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I told you there'd be another one! Took a little while to find a title, but I got one, I think it works, and I really, _really_ hope you all like this!**

**Many thanks once again to DrZevil, whose many works are all very worth reading, and who has been helping me out with this new story quite a lot. Also thanks to Kretolus, who remains an awesome guy*.**

**Please read and review, I love to hear everyone's thoughts. Hope you enjoy**

***_possibly_ human. Jury's still out.**

* * *

The young Trill woman sighed heavily, leaning back into her chair and scrubbing at her eyes with her palms. Since the outbreak of the war with the Klingons, the drydocks around ESD had been pushed to breaking point and beyond, but lately things had settled back into something that vaguely resembled a routine.

She opened her eyes again and glared around her tiny office. Despite the fact that the Federation had dispensed with paper several centuries previously, the small space was still cluttered - instead of reams of paper, PADDs of assorted sizes littered the floor and the single remaining chair, with some precariously balanced on the pot of a plant that had died some time previously.

Azhasca Pezhal, Starfleet Lieutenant and team leader of one of the best dock teams stationed around Earth, was admittedly not a tidy woman, but she knew that what she lacked in tidiness she made up for in drive and competence.

Azhasca sighed again, reaching down and opening the bottom drawer of her desk. She pulled out a small glass, poured a double measure of a bright green beverage from a bottle she kept beside it, and set the bottle back in the drawer. She vehemently ignored the other bottle in there, an almost-empty bottle of a rather excellent vintage of Chateau Picard wine - a reminder she preferred to ignore of a night she preferred to forget.

She took a sip of the beverage and closed her eyes, savouring the cool burn as it slid down her throat and settled in her stomach. No doubt she would regret the drink in the morning - Romulan Ale was as powerful as it was illegal in Federation space - but at that time she didn't care.

Two years. Two years since she'd been assigned to the drydock teams, two years since-

_-Screams echoed down the dark corridor as she ran, mingling with the red alert siren and the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears-_

-since the event she tried constantly to shut out...and yet every night she still woke screaming.

Her office's door chime shook Azhasca from her reverie, and for once she was thankful for it. She hurriedly shoved her glass back into its drawer, made sure her hair was still in its neat bun, and made herself look busier than she needed to be.

"Come," she called, her voice as strong and stern as it had always been, and the door slid open to admit a man who looked painfully young. He was of average height and build, with a rounded face and bright blue eyes that lacked the dark fire so common in officers who had seen too much. His dark brown hair was kept short by the nature of his work, and as he stood in front of Azhasca's desk he gripped a PADD in his hands as if to use it as a shield.

"What do you want, Womers?" she snapped, and his jaw worked silently for a moment before he managed to answer.

"Azh-er, Lieu-...um, ma'am, two items for your attention," he started tentatively, still unsure where he stood in her regard. "Captain Lewis of the _Detmer_ is wondering when his drive core repairs will be completed, and the _Hades_ is on her way in - her chief engineer sent us a repairs list."

He handed over the PADD which she snatched out of his hand without a word, and she continued to ignore him as she looked it over.

"Great, fucking Undine," she muttered eventually, then finally met his gaze. "Make sure the teams are suited up to protect against bio-electric charges and fluidic space residue - we've dealt with this stuff before and we don't want a repeat of last time. Also, tell Captain Lewis that his repairs will be done a lot faster if he stops bothering us and stays out of our way."

As soon as she'd finished speaking she turned to her desktop screen, inputting the data on the upcoming repairs, and Womers opened his mouth to speak again.

"That'll be all, Womers," she told him impatiently, cutting him off before he could speak, and he lingered for just a moment before hurrying out of the office door.

As he left, he almost collided with the human woman outside, her hand reaching for the door chime, and he offered a muttered greeting as he passed.

"Afternoon Ensign," she answered, unsure if he'd heard her as she stepped into the office, and she gave its occupant one of her usual dazzling smiles.

Azhasca waited until the door closed, before collapsing back into her chair with a frustrated groan.

"Elliot seemed to be in a rush," her new guest said casually, and Azhasca made another noise of frustration.

"He's annoying," she sighed, staring at the ceiling. "He keeps looking at me like he expects a pat on the head or something."

"Or perhaps some sort of acknowledgement that you two-"

"I don't want to hear it, Bobbi."

Lieutenant (J.G.) Bobbi Lehar was Azhasca's closest friend, and she had been since the two had been at the Academy. They had even dated briefly, slept together on more than one occasion - some of which were outside of their official relationship - before eventually the two of them decided that they simply functioned better together as friends.

Bobbi frowned at her friend's tone, noticing that something was wrong for the Trill.

"What's the matter, love?" she asked, perching on the edge of the table as Azhasca bent down to retrieve her drink.

"The usual," she answered, sitting up straight and unbuttoning the top of her jacket. Just as she was about to down the rest of her drink, the glass was taken from her hand, and she gave Bobbi a weak glare before resting her head in her palm.

"Then I'm sure this isn't doing you any favours," Bobbi offered, gesturing with the glass. "Does the counselling help?"

"A little. But sometimes...sometimes I'll lapse into memory , during the quiet moments in the day. That's why I prefer to keep working. And I still wake up in the middle of the night, screaming in terror and soaking with sweat."

Bobbi stayed silent with her friend for a few minutes, gently running her fingers through Azhasca's dark purple hair, an affectionate gesture that had always helped calm her.

"You know I'm here if you need me, Azh," Bobbi said quietly, using the short form of her friend's name that almost no-one else would ever get way with. "But...I also think you should talk to Elliot at some point. He deserves to know why you are...the way you are. And how you feel."

"Elliot doesn't need to know shit," Azhasca answered, straightening up again and pulling away from Bobbi's touch. The human woman had seen this before - it was an indicator that Azhasca's emotional walls were back up, and it would be pointless trying to talk to her about anything personal while that remained the case. "Anyway, did you need anything?"

"Giving you a heads-up." Bobbi dropped another PADD on the desk, and Azhasca looked it over.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she snarled, chucking the device back onto her desk. "The fucking Renegade Admiral is on the way too? Just my shitting luck."

"I don't think Admiral Kassai would appreciate that name," Bobbi chided, causing Azhasca to curl her lip in disgust.

"Tough. I don't need her bullshit on my dock, so if she tries anything I'll shoot her myself. Anything else?"

"Just...remember what I said, okay?" Bobbi told her, heading for the door.

"Yeah, sure. And Bobbi?"

The tall woman turned, an eyebrow arched in question.

"I...thanks. I'll let you know if...if I need you."

Bobbi smiled softly, gave her friend a nod, and headed back out of the office.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: First of all, many thanks to the awesome DrZevil for his input on this chapter, and the cameo of Admiral Zevil in this story. Secondly, thanks to everyone who reviewed last time, including my friend and long-time reviewer Kretolus, and I hope you all enjoy the new chapter!**

* * *

Azhasca and Bobbi stood in the dock's gallery, watching the Endeavour-class cruiser Hades slide slowly into position.

Bobbi remained silent at her friend's side, letting the Trill's experienced eye rove over the streamlined vessel to determine what had been left out of the engineer's report.

"Well?" she asked after a moment, and Azhasca began speaking while still examining the ship.

"Let's start with the obvious - she's listing to starboard," she said bluntly, and Bobbi began taking notes on the large PADD she carried. "Check the control runs for the manoeuvering thrusters - looks like the lower port side are mis-firing."

"There's a few questions to be asked about how they managed to get half a bio-ship jammed into their hull, as well," Bobbi offered, and Azhasca nodded absently.

"Best be careful removing that. The deflector dish has taken a pretty severe hit from a bio-electric pulse," she added, pointing to the location in question. "Overhaul Deflector Control, there's bound to be more than a few blow-outs in there, then check the surrounding systems for any feedback damage."

"Nothing to add about the scoring on the hull plating, on the forward port quadrant?" Bobbi asked, and Azhasca clicked her tongue at her.

"It's superficial, just replace any plating that's compromised and buff out the rest."

She paced further down the gallery, watching as the ship began to power down, shuddering as the dock's tractor beams held it in place.

"The starboard nacelle is still leaking plasma, make sure to lock it down before stripping out the warp coils. Looks like we'll have to replace the pylon too, that thing's holding together more by sheer optimism than anything else right now."

"You don't think there's a core issue there?"

Azhasca shook her head again.

"No. The port nacelle isn't fluctuating in the same manner at all, it's definitely local." She thought for a moment, chewing her lip. "Have Womers check the core anyway. Can't be too careful when you've been dealing with Undine - their weapons can damage one system, but short out three more. The aft torpedo tubes are fused. All of the dorsal beam arrays are blown…" She sighed in weary anticipation, shaking her head yet again, only this time at the damage done to the ship. "She's going to be in dock for weeks. Maybe longer."

"Her captain won't be happy."

"He should try not getting shot then."

"I'll take that under advisement, Lieutenant, and let my helmsman know."

They both turned suddenly to the source of the new voice - a tall, slender male, with purple scaled skin and black combed-back hair. His beard and mustache were immaculately groomed, and he folded his hands behind him as he continued addressing the two women.

"Although, in his defense, there were quite a lot of Borg and Undine firing at us and our task force and Fluidic Space is a challenge to fly through."

"Admiral Zevil, sir," Azhasca stated unapologetically, extending her hand. "Welcome to my humble dockyard."

A pleasure, Lieutenant," Zevil said, shaking her hand firmly. "I do apologize for butting into your conversation, but since it involved me I couldn't resist."

"Plus he loves making an entrance." said the smirking Betazoid beside him.

"And you're no better?" Zevil quipped back at her, before turning back to Azhasca. "My First Officer, Commander Tyufia Utprut, and my Chief of Engineering, Rupert." he said, gesturing first to the Betazoid and then the older human male.

Azhasca raised an eyebrow at Rupert, before ignoring him and replying to the admiral.

"A pleasure, sirs. I'm Lieutenant Pezhal, and this barely-restrained bundle of girlish enthusiasm is my aide, Lieutenant Bobbi Lehar."

At the introduction, Bobbi seized Zevil's hand in an excited grip, shaking it vigoriusly.

"Ohmigod Admiral Zevil sir, it is such an honour to meet you," she babbled. "I've read about all your missions, the ones cleared for public access anyway, and I just love your command style, and you're one of the youngest officers ever to make Admiral and I want to be just like you, and-"

All the while she had been talking, Bobbi had continued shaking Zevil's hand, up until Azhasca pulled her away by her jacket collar.

"Excuse her sirs, she had too much coffee today," the Trill said mockingly, giving Bobbi a crooked smile.

"It's um...alright," Zevil said a little perplexed and taken aback by the Lieutenants greeting. "I had close to the same reaction recently when I first saw the U.S.S. Voyager."

"He only drooled a little bit though," Tyufia said teasingly, putting her arm around his shoulder. "I'm so proud of you!" she said in a baby voice and attempted to pinch his cheek, but he slapped her hand away.

"Would you behave?" Zevil chastised her, before he turned back to the two dock workers. "Thank you for your kind words, Lieutenant Lehar, I do try to serve the Federation the best that I can."

Bobbi giggled in a most undignified manner, blushing furiously.

"You're much more handsome in real life though," she said hurriedly, earning a withering glare from her CO.

"Keep that up, Lieutenant, and you'll be stripping those warp coils out with tweezers," she told her friend, then looked to Zevil again.

"I apologise again for my aide's behaviour, sir. Ever since we stopped dating she's been like a Vulcan during Pon'far."

"So you're single?" asked Tyufia in an almost predatory fashion, "what a coincidence, so's Z-OW!" she started to say but yelped in pain when Zevil stepped on her foot.

"I'm sorry, Commander, I must have slipped." Zevil said, his tone dry, and not at all apologetic. What followed was what Azhasca could only conclude as the two senior officers having a psychic discussion.

Or they were both trying to weaponise their annoyance. It was hard to tell with command staff.

"If I may ask," Rupert said, his voice jovial and conversational, "what you plan on starting with, lass? Aside from ejecting the Fluidic matter that has found itself in mah ship?"

Azhasca looked at the photonic officer, her expression a mask of strained neutrality.

"I'll remind you that while in dock, the Hades is our ship, and you will get her back when we are finished and not a second before."

Bobbi cleared her throat at Azhasca's side, before muttering "remember what we discussed, Azh."

Azhasca rolled her eyes and continued.

"That said, we'll probably start at the fore and work our way aft, locking down any immediate threats beforehand, of course."

"Ah." Rupert said, the haughty and superior nature of his original personality coming through in that single syllable. "Well you are right that is how this works, Lieutenant, but I would still appreciate updates on your progress, as will the Hades' Chief of Operations."

Deciding that he needed to come back to the conversation before a fight broke out, Zevil said, "as is procedure as well, but I'm sure the Lieutenant knows that, Chief." Zevil then turned to Azhasca. "I think we've taken enough of your time Lieu-"

"Xavius!" a musical voice called out, and they all turned to see a short, chestnut-haired Bajoran woman, wearing the signature slate-grey coat of Starfleet Intelligence and striding down the corridor. "A pleasure to see you again! It's been too long."

"Lydana," Zevil said, friendly pleasure coloring his voice. "Quinn said we might be here at the same time, and I'm glad he was right. You remember my First Officer and my Chief of Engineering."

"Of course," Lydana answered cheerfully, looking to each one as she greeted them in turn. "Hello again, Rupert. Hello, Tyufia. Still keeping this stubborn fool on his toes?"

"Actually, he was just on mine." The Betazoid replied, sending her friend a glare.

"That's quite rich given your track record my friend," Zevil said teasingly, ignoring the glares being sent his way, then became slightly smug as he looked at his claws. "And Admiral Tuvok found my ideas less than foolish."

Lydana raised an eyebrow, waiting for a few moments before soeaking again.

"Well Tyufia, you just became my new best friend," she said with mock hurt, standing next to the tall Betazoid and poking her tongue out at Zevil.

"What an amazing coincidence, I need a new one myself," Tyufia said as she slung an around the petite Admiral's shoulders, also sticking her tongue out at the other Admiral.

"Oh yes, that's a very grown up response, ladies," Zevil stated dryly. "So what brings you to the DryDocks, need to 'borrow' another ship?"

"Not fucking likely," Azhasca growled, "the next time someone tries to steal a ship under my care, regardless of rank, I'll shoot them myself."

Lydana's eyes widened at the Trill woman's audacity, and she cleared her throat before stepping towards the dockmaster.

"We haven't met yet," she stated, extending her hand. "Admiral Kassai Lydana, and you are?"

"Lieutenant Pezhal," Azhasca answered tersely, folding her hands behind her back. "This is my aide, Lieutenant Lehar. And I meant what I said."

"I was just going over the Hades' repairs with the Lieutenant," Zevil said, sensing the growing animosity and once again decided to play peacekeeper. Then something occurred to him, "Wait... Pezhal. Why do I feel like I've heard that name somewhere?"

"Because I introduced myself to you a few minutes ago," Pezhal answered in a dry tone.

"Wait, yeah, I know what you mean," Lydana agreed. "Pezhal...as in Azhasca Pezhal? Didn't you-"

"That's not a topic I care to discuss, Admiral," the Trill interrupted, her breathing quickening. "If you'll excuse me, I should be going."

"Just one moment Lieutenant," Zevil said, his famous 'captain voice' coming into play. "I think you, Admiral Kassai, and I need to have little talk."

"No, sir, I don't think we do," Azhasca told him, refusing to look at either Admiral and clenching her fists at her sides. She fought to keep her breathing steady, but she knew she was failing.

"There is nothing...I want...to talk about," she finished, her voice quivering slightly.

Zevil was taken aback and curious at the Trill's reaction, and he looked to his fellow Admiral. "Your turn."

"Azhasca," Lydana started, her voice low and steady, "I know what you've gone through. I know it's hard to remember the past, and not count the ways it could have gone differently. But we need skilled captains out there - and I believe you're one of them."

"No!" Azhasca wheeled on the admirals, quickly masking the pain that flashed in her eyes. "I have spent two years putting this crew together, hand-picked and trained by me. I owe it to them to stay here, and do what I'm best at. If you'll excuse me."

With a curt nod to Zevil, Azhasca strode down the hallway, Bobbi close behind her.

"That could have gone better." Tyufia said dryly.

"No," Zevil said, cocking his eyebrow at the short Bajoran beside him, "that went as well as it could have considering what we were asking of her." His voice gained the tiniest of hard edges to it as he added, "I don't appreciate being used like that Lydana.

"I have no idea what you mean, Xavius." Lydana's tone, as ever, was completely innocent. "I came here to invite a friend to lunch. That a veteran captain was here is simply a bonus."

"Yes, I'm sure," Zevil said dryly, rolling his eyes at the younger Admirals antics, "but I doubt we helped her decide to come back to the chair."

"What exactly happened to her?" Asked Tyufia, her curiosity going into overdrive when the two Admirals shared a look.

"Not our story to tell, Commander." Zevil said, sending a sympathetic look towards the direction Ashasca fled in. "Just know it was bad enough for her to give up her position to come here."

"I might not know exactly what happened," Tyufia said as she also looked down where the Trill went, "but it had to have been a true horror for her, given the tidal waves of negativity that was coming off her at only the mention of the Captain's chair." She turned back to the other officers and hugged herself. "If I wasn't a full Betazoid, I doubt I would still be standing from feeling those emotions."

"As Xavius said," Lydana answered, "it isn't our story to tell. But given what her file says...she's suffered more than even I did."

"Perhaps," Zevil started to say in a thoughtful tone as he eyed Lydana, "it's time to enlist the aid of someone who's dealt with a difficult case close to hers."

Lydana sighed resignedly.

"Well, so much for lunch," she said bitterly, before heading towards the transporter room.

"Nonsense," Zevil said, following her, "we're going to need a better venue to convince him to get involved than his office."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Huzzah! Another chapter of my latest fic! Once again, huge thanks to DrZevil for being an awesome guest star, and many thanks to Kretolus for his constant reviewing. Check out both their work, they do great stuff!**

* * *

"Why is it," Jorel Quinn started as he took the offered seat, "that whenever you two get together I instantly feel a great swell of sorrow for most of the known galaxy?"

Lydana shrugged, leaning forward and digging into her Rokeg blood pie.

"No idea," she answered around the mouthful of food, "we're just here, innocently having lunch."

"That's what Quinn and I are doing," Zevil said as he cut into his Valixian Python steak. "I highly doubt you've done anything innocently a day in your life, my dear friend."

Lydana gasped in a show of feigned hurt.

"Xavius, you wound me! I'll have you know I am a paragon of innocence and purity!"

"There's a fountain in the New Romulus embassy that says otherwise," Quinn countered, bring a light blush to Lydana's cheeks.

"You don't play fair, Jorel," the Bajoran muttered, taking a swig of her firewine.

"When dealing with you, my dear Lydana, no one should play fair," Zevil commented after he swallowed the piece of meat. "Valix knows, you certainly won't."

Lydana thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"Well, you've got me there. What can I say? I like to keep people on their toes."

"As much as I'm enjoying your witty repartée," Quinn said with a smile, "I doubt this is why the both of you called me here."

"You're right." Zevil said, putting his cutlery down, his expression turning serious. "We need your help with something."

"It must be quite the conundrum if the two of you are asking for my help," Quinn stated, his eyes squinting in thought, "What is that you need my help with?"

"You hear that, Xavius?" Lydana asked, her tone light. "We ask an old friend for lunch, and suddenly he thinks he's special. We must be developing, as some would say, a Reputation."

"Goodness me!" Zevil said matching her tone, "I do hope it's a good one."

"I've created a pair of monsters," Quinn said wearily, before getting back to business and repeated his question.

"Okay, okay, enough teasing," Lydana answered, instantly becoming more serious. "There's an officer we believe is going to waste here, but we haven't been able to change her mind. That's why we wanted your help."

Quinn was quite for a few moments then he said "Lieutenant Pezhal."

Both looked at the older Trill shocked. "And here I thought I was the psychic at the table," Zevil said as he regained his composure.

"Lieutenant Pezhal," Lydana echoed in reply, leaning back in her chair. " She's got skill and drive, and we need her out there. What can we do to get her in the chair again?"

Quinn was quiet for a long moment, clearly in deep thought, when he finally spoke up. "You both know what she went through with her last command?" He asked, a tad needlessly considering who he was talking to.

"Yes," Zevil answered solemnly, "and we can understand why she doesn't want the chair, but we need the best out there in the field." Zevil leaned in and said in a low tone,

"You know what's coming, Jorel," he added ominously, shocking the pair of Admirals at their usually formal colleague's slip.

"I do, and as yet I see little reason to subject someone to fresh trauma over a problem we are already tackling." Jorel took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. "And believe me, if we send Pezhal against the Borg again, the resulting trauma would likely tear her apart."

"With respect, that's bullshit," Lydana said firmly, bolting upright again. "You know damn well what I went through against the Tal Shiar, and yet when I faced them again I didn't buckle. Lieutenant Pezhal has had plenty of time for counselling - it's time she faced her fears head on."

"Lydana's right, sir," Zevil said, regaining his formality, "I can tell from one meeting with the woman that she is formidable, even if she herself doesn't realize it at this moment."

Quinn sipped his coffee again, remaining quiet for a moment before speaking again.

"And exactly what do you think I can do, that you two can't?"

"Well, considering we're sitting with one of your success stories," Zevil said slowly, nonchalantly nodding in Lydana's direction, "We thought you might...what's that human term, 'pull a rabbit out of a hat'?"

"Lydana's success is nothing to do with me," Quinn argued, sipping his drink again. "Not since she was...'acquired' by Intelligence. And I still don't see how I'm supposed to help."

Lydana leaned in conspiratorially.

"You're the head of fleet operations, for pretty much the entire sector. You can reassign her as you see fit, or even...leverage some weight against her to, ah, 'persuade' her."

"You're right I do have the power to do that," Quinn said calmly as he carefully put down his mug, before glaring at his two mentees, "however don't know how I feel about 'persuading' someone who is still processing her grief."

"But she's not processing her grief, she's wallowing in it," Zevil said firmly. "I could feel the self loathing coming off her from a mile away, as I'm sure anyone with even the smallest amount of psychic power did as well." Zevil sat up straight in his seat. "The soft approach has failed, sir."

Quinn was silent as he thought about what Zevil had said, and Lydana seized the opportunity.

"The bottom line is this - we need exceptional captains, and given her record, we know she's just that," she stated. "You need to take the hard line and put her back in active service. She'll fight you, but give her control over her command staff and she'll come around. Not immediately, but she will."

Quinn set his mug aside, glancing at his former protegé.

"If I had known what an unholy terror you would become, I would never have sent you off to Intelligence, Lydana."

The Bajoran smiled at him innocently.

"It was never your choice, Jorel."

* * *

With a ship as large as the _Endeavour _class requiring so much work, Azhasca's teams were stretched thinner than ever. For that reason, she'd left operational coordination in the hands of Bobbi, and joined her crew in repairing the immense, modern vessel.

She had chosen to work on one of the fused dorsal phaser arrays, knowing that she could work on that on her own and free up two more officers to help elsewhere. So it was that she was stood on the underside of the _Hades'_ hull, clad in her EV suit, cutter in hand, losing herself in the task.

And whenever she needed a break, all she had to do was lift her head a little.

From her position, when she looked ahead, she saw out across the rest of the hull, out into the starscape beyond. If she looked 'up', she saw more stars, the open bottom of the dock structure almost forming a cradle for the myriad galaxies she could see. It was beautifully serene, and she loved it.

Azhasca looked up from her work momentarily, and this time noticed another figure slowly advancing towards her. She paid them no heed, bending down again to focus on the task once again.

"_Womers to Lieutenat Pezhal."_

She sighed. It would have to be Womers. He'd probably been speaking to Bobbi…

"Go ahead Womers," she answered, with a lot more patience than she'd felt recently.

"_Thought I'd give you an update,"_ he told her, stopping the other side of the phaser array. "_We've gone over the warp core, and all the diagnostics came back green," _he explained. "_I've got my team going over all the neighbouring systems, but Engineering seems clear."_

Azhasca noted, not for the first time, that Womers shared something in common with herself - the fact that they changed when on the job. She was able to forget her past for a little while, and function as a normal person again, all the problems of ship repairs providing her with plenty of mental exercise. Womers, on the other hand, became more confident in himself and his ability - it was as if he wasn't sure how to function outside of his work environment, but inside of it he was firmly in control.

She liked that.

"Thanks for the update," she told him, still engrossed in her work. "You didn't need to come all the way out here to tell me, but good work all the same."

There was a moment of silence between them, during which Azhasca continued working. Awkward silences weren't usually a problem for her.

"_I spoke to Lieutenant Lehar,"_ he said suddenly, and she could tell by his tone that he hadn't intended to be so blunt. "_She said...well, that I should...try and talk to you out here. About...well, that evening we...uh…"_

She sighed, and turned off her cutter. She looked up, staring at Womers, and although distance and polarised visors prevented eye contact, she still imagined he was looking right at her.

"Womers...Elliot...I can't right now," she told him, shaking her head. "I'm...not in the best emotional state these days to be thinking about...things like that. That night was a mistake born of frustration, and I'm sorry I lead you to believe otherwise."

"_I...listen ma'am, I know this might be out of line, but...we're a team here. You taught us that. Maybe...try and let us help _you _for once? Let _me-"

"Elliot," she snapped. He went quiet instantly, although she heard him swallow hard over the commlink. She took a deep breath, changed her tone, and continued. "Elliot...believe me when I say I wouldn't want anyone else burdened with this," she told him calmly. "I like you Elliot. I think you're cute. But until I'm certain I'm not going to lose my fucking mind again, I'm not going to risk getting involved with anyone."

She started her cutter again and got back to work, ignoring Womers' sigh as she did. She heard him take a breath to speak again, but he was cut off by another comm signal.

"_Control to Pezhal,"_ Bobbi's voice called cheerfully in her ear, "_incoming message for you."_

"Tell them to piss off, I'm busy," Azhasca shot back, chuckling humourlessly.

"_It's Admiral Quinn."_

The Trill paused then. Admiral Quinn ran practically the whole sector. If he wanted something, it was best not to keep him waiting.

"Fuck it...alright, tell him I'm on my way."

She stood up, turned off her cutter, and told Womers that he was taking over, before heading for the nearest airlock.

Whatever Quinn wanted with her, she _knew_ she wasn't going to like it.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: A new chapter! Yay! Sorry it took so long, but I've been struggling with part of this one for a while. HUUGE thanks to DrZevil for his help on getting me going with it! Also, as always, thanks to Kretolus for his constant reviewing and support! Hope everyone likes this piece :D**

* * *

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Admiral Quinn looked up from the PADD he had been reading, and smiled warmly at the younger officer.

"Yes, Lieutenant, I did." He gestured to the seat opposite him. "Please, have a seat."

Azhasca did as she was asked, swallowing nervously for the first time in two years.

When faced with Admiral Quinn, however, she reasoned she had a valid excuse.

"Would you like a drink?" the older Trill asked, gesturing with his mug, but Azhasca shook her head.

"No, thank you sir. May I ask, what is this about?"

Quinn didn't answer immediately, instead standing up and crossing over to his replicator and recycling his mug, getting a fresh drink at the same time.

"I've just been going over your record," he said as he retook his seat, sipping his beverage before continuing. "I have to say, for one so young it's impressive."

"If this is about what I said to Admiral Kassai, I stand by every word," she said defiantly. "I am sick and tired of people taking my dock for granted, and I won't let it happen again."

Quinn frowned, a crooked smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"If you have had a disagreement with Admiral Kassai, that's between you and her," he told her, his tone still warm and light. "She's in Intelligence now, and as she is so fond of reminding me, outside of my jurisdiction."

It was Azhasca's turn to frown, as she pondered what Quinn could possibly want to see her about.

"In that case sir, I can't say I understand why-"

Her eyes narrowed momentarily, then widened again as she realised what he must be building up to.

"No."

Quinn's expression stiffened into one of formal authority, and he met Azhasca's eyes as he spoke.

"Lieutenant Pezhal, I'm reassigning you to a Command position."

"No," Azhasca repeated, her tone rising as she surged to her feet. "No! I am not going back out there, sir! I have done my front-line service and I have paid the price, and I will _not_ go through that again!"

She walked away from the Admiral's desking, stopping at the wide doorway and resting against the frame, burying her face in the crook of her arm. When she closed her eyes, all she could see were corridors darkened with power loss, the faces of the long dead contorted in horror as the Borg took them.

"Azhasca, we've all lost people in the name of service-"

"I didn't just lose _people_," she said softly, emotion causing her voice to tremble. "I lost _everyone_."

"I know," Quinn answered after a moment, "and I know that pains you. But we need skilled captains out there, and your record shows you're capable. We _need_ you to take the chair again."

"People keep telling me that," Azhasca said without turning, looking out across the mezzanine behind Quinn's office. Down at the fleet coordination centre, Admirals Kassai and Zevil were gathered with their subordinates, laying out their own individual plans, Admiral O'Neill close by briefing some of her officers.

Deep down, she knew these other admirals had faced loss themselves, endured as much as she herself had if not more, and she wondered how they had the strength to go on afterwards. Admiral Kassai especially - it was no secret that her wife had been killed at the Battle of New Romulus, and yet there she stood, going back out to face the horrors of the universe.

"People keep saying it," Azhasca repeated, turning to face Quinn again, "but I can't see it. My entire crew, every single one, was killed or...or assimilated. I can't go through that again."

Quinn was quiet again, silently considering his next words carefully. "Do you know how many lives I've lived?" He asked unexpectedly, but before she could even respond he answered his own question. "I have lived eight lifetimes, and most of those lives were in the military, or captaining a ship of some sort.

"I'm not sure if you are interested in joining with a symbiote, but one thing they don't tell you is that while some memories come quickly, others are much slower to surface, such as the memories of loss and tragedy." Quinn was quiet again for a moment, and Azhasca could see the countless years flashing in his eyes. "I won't share all of those memories with you - for one thing there are too many to go through, and those are for the next Quinn host to know. But when I first gained those memories and the emotions that came with them, I...didn't handle it as well as you have."

Azhasca scoffed.

"'Well'? I've been a wreck for the last two years-" she started to say, but Quinn cut her off.

"With all due respect Lieutenant, you could have done worse," he told her, a frown on his face. "You stayed in Starfleet, I didn't." At her surprised look, he let out a mirthless chuckle, before continuing his story. "Yes, for a time I resigned my commission in Starfleet. I felt after all that Quinn had lost, I shouldn't repeat their mistakes and for a time I was content with that choice - until other memories surfaced, of Quinn getting through their pain.

"Now, I didn't return to service right away, it wasn't as simple as that," Quinn said quickly, sensing that Azhasca might think otherwise. "It was a long road before I could even putting the uniform on, let alone consider working toward the chair."

Quinn got up from his seat, moved to the chair right next to Azasca, sat down, and faced her. "You have done an amazing job with your Dock team, but you are capable of so much more and isn't it better to face your demons rather then hide from them?"

Azhasca was silent, staring down at the desk, her hands clenched in her lap. Although she fought not to let it show, her breathing was shallow and rapid, and she swallowed hard as she attempted to force herself to remain calm.

"I...I'll need a team," she said in a small voice, almost choking the words out. "Not just any team..._my_ team."

"You'll have it," Quinn assured her quietly. "And a ship that befits your skills, as well."

Azhasca stood abruptly, turning towards the doorway and deliberately not facing Quinn.

"Then...I'd better go and...notify them." She cleared her throat, stood as straight as she could, and straightened her jacket.

"You'll have my crew list by the end of the day," she told him, and strode out of the office without being dismissed.

Quinn allowed her to go, understanding how much he was asking of her...and hating himself for it.

* * *

As soon as she was out of sight of Quinn's office, Azhasca found a quiet corner and slumped against the wall, burying her face in the crook of her arm. No matter how much she fought, tears began to trail down her cheeks as she sobbed quietly.

After two years avoiding it, they had finally dragged her back to the chair that she feared so much, the cause of so much pain and the reason she woke screaming in the middle of the night.

She was tempted to take a random pick of officers...but she knew that if she was to survive this time, she needed people she trusted, people she could rely on. That meant Bobbi, Womers, a handful of others.

She scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve, shook herself off, and walked towards the shuttle bay. She'd need the longer journey to organise her thoughts...and to pray that this time, everyone she cared about would come out alive.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: HOLY CRAP, IT'S ME AGAIN! Thanks for your patience, and I hope you don't mind the extra-long chapter - felt you kind of deserved it after my lengthy absence.**

**Thanks to DrZevil for his assistance with this chapter, and other general stuff!**

* * *

Azhasca spent some time in her office, composing herself as she came to terms with the enormity of what she personally faced - a return to to the place she had feared, the place she had lost so much...the captain's chair. She built her personal roster of officers she wanted with her, filling every major position she could think of with someone she trusted.

Bobbi would be her First Officer, undoubtedly - she was Azhasca's rock, and also the only one capable of calling the Trill out on a bad decision. Womers, with his expertise in warp core technology, made him an ideal choice for Chief of Engineering. Aryju Pekeez, a Bajoran science officer with secondary training in command skills, was tentatively chosen as Azhasca's Second Officer - it was difficult to be certain of positions, when she didn't even know what ship she was getting, but it was better to have a rough framework to get started with.

That left the CMO, and Azhasca had chosen the assigned medic from her own dock team - the twitchy, quiet, mildly peculiar human, Katrice Ling Divis.

All of these appointments would likely involve hefty promotions for most if not all of the officers she was picking, and the paperwork alone would be a bureaucratic nightmare, but since she didn't need to deal with it she couldn't care less - Quinn was forcing her into her position, so he could damn well deal with the fallout.

With all of that arranged as best as she was able, Azhasca sighed heavily and contacted Bobbi, asking for the _Hades'_ Chief of Operations to come to the office. If she was going to be leaving on a mission of her own, then a proper update needed to be given to Zevil's staff.

It wasn't long before the door chime sounded, and Azhasca marveled at the officer's efficiency - almost no-one was ever so swift in dealing with dock crews, and it was a pleasant surprise to be shown some respect for once.

"Come," Azhasca called, setting her PADD aside, and turning towards the door with her best official smile on.

Her expression died the minute Lieutenant-Commander Six stepped through the door.

With some liberated Borg drones, the aftermath of their assimilation was virtually invisible - some left-over scarring, perhaps, or a prosthetic limb with carefully-matched synthetic skin.

Such was not the case with Six of Nine, known to her friends and crew simply as Six. An arched implant of dark metal framed the top and side of her left eye, which itself had been replaced with a prominent scope with bright green lighting, and a remnant section of exoskeleton covered her left hand.

In short, she was quite possibly the worst possible person to visit Azhasca at that moment.

"You wished to see me, Lieutenant Pezhal? Is there an issue with the repairs?"

Azhasca stared at Six, her eyes going wide with fear. Her jaw worked soundlessly for a few seconds, before the Trill stumbled out of her chair and backed away from the liberated Borg.

"What...who-"

She winced as fragmented memories flashed through her mind - the multi-layered, perpetual voice of the Collective, the beams of light from their augmentations, the cutting tools grafted to their arms...

The screams. So, so many screams. So many crew members that she saw killed or assimilated before her eyes.

So many screams.

"No," she breathed, sweating in terror. "No! You won't take me! You won't take me! Get away from me, you half-dead creature!"

Six was shocked, but not altogether surprised. She had half expected to be greeted like this at some point after her return to Starfleet, but as of yet she had been fortunate enough to not come across it yet. "Lieutenant," she said, trying to make her voice as soothing as possible and not move any closer, "I am not part of the Collective anymore, you have nothing to fear from me."

Azhasca tried to breathe steadily, but she couldn't fight the panic rising within. She heard the words, but still heard the voice of the Collective - flat, emotionless, infinite and terrifying. She shook her head, trying to form words, tears running down her cheeks as she backed herself against the wall.

"No," she said again, in a much smaller voice, her lips trembling with the need to cry. "No...not again, I won't...I-I can't..."

She turned around, searching the wall as if seeking to escape through it, and she continued to shake her head.

"Not again," she sobbed quietly.

_This course of action is not effective,_ thought Six. _It is time to call in reinforcements. But who?_

"Lieutenant," Six tried again, with the same soothing tone, "Is there someone I can call to help you? A counselor or friend?"

When Six received no answer, she went to plan B. "Six of Nine to Admiral Zevil." Six said quickly.

_"Go ahead Lieutenant Commander,"_ Zevil said after a few seconds.

"I have a...situation in the Dock Masters office." She replied, risking a side look at the still cowering Trill.

For a while, Six heard nothing through the com, but then Zevil's voice spoke up. _"I've called someone I believe can help the Lieutenant. Just wait there for her. And Six?"_

"Yes Admiral?"

_"This was not your fault."_ He told her with compassion.

Six held back a sob of her own. _How does he always know what to say to me?_ she thought with a watery smile, but said in a cracked voice, "I will try to remember that, sir. Six of Nine out."

A few minutes later, in which Six continued to try and get some sense out of the stricken Lieutenant, the office door slid open and someone swore quietly.

"No disrespect, ma'am," Bobbi said to Six, moving past her to approach her friend, "but someone _really _fucked up by sending you."

She carefully moved closer to Azhasca, reaching out towards her.

"Azh honey?" she said softly. "It's Bobbi. I'm here for you."

"Bobbi?" Azh asked in a panicked voice, whipping around to see what fresh horror awaited her.

Instead she was greeted by the warm, smiling, _human_ features of her friend and former lover, and she cried brokenly as she collapsed into Bobbi's arms.

"You should go for now, Commander," she told Six, stroking Azhasca's back. "I'll meet you shortly to discuss the repairs."

She turned back to Azh, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words in an attempt to calm her down.

"Of-of Course Lieutenant." Six said as she backed away, but as she was turning away from the two women, Bobbi could have sworn that she heard the former Drone whisper "I'm sorry." before she quickly left the office.

* * *

Some time later, Azhasca was stood in the dock's observation deck, looking out at the passing ships without really seeing them. She had spent the previous hour crying brokenly into Bobbi's shoulder, then crying into her own hands, and then finally pulling herself together enough to pretend she was stable enough to command again.

For the third time in twenty minutes, she ran her fingers across the four circular pips at her collar, marking her as an official Captain in Starfleet. She took a deep, shuddering breath as her heart began to race again, but she fought it back into some semblance of control before she had yet another panic attack.

Azhasca tried to remember that everyone kept saying how she was ready for this, how well-deserved it was, and that Starfleet needed her skills back on the front lines. They told her she was tough, that she would do well, that her experience mattered.

And yet, every time she closed her eyes, she still saw-

_-sickly green light, pulsing down the corridor already modified to suit the Borg, assimilated crewmen hunting her as she ran-_

-echoes of the past that still haunted her. How was she supposed to do this, she wondered? How was she supposed to command a ship again, when she could barely function without drinking through the day?

A warm, lightly-spiced scent intruded on her thoughts, and she was aware of another figure stepping up beside her. A mug of hot chocolate was placed in front of her, and Azhasca gave a sideways glare to Admiral Kassai.

"Isik for your thoughts?" she asked, but Azhasca didn't turn.

"I could tell you if I knew what one was."

"No idea," Lydana answered, "but then neither does anyone else in Starfleet, so I don't think it matters."

Azhasca ignored the diminutive admiral, sampling her beverage instead.

"How did you know what drink I liked?"

Lydana shrugged.

"Intelligence hobby," she said, without further explanation.

"You...look into other officers' drinking preferences?"

"Among other things.

The petite admiral's cheeky grin implied Azhasca did _not_ want to enquire any further about that, and she went back to glaring into her drink.

"You're making the right choice," Lydana told her. "We-"

"Cut the bullshit, Admiral," Azhasca snapped, turning to face Lydana at last. "I'm not stupid. For two years Quinn's been telling me I've made such a difference to the dock teams, that repair times are the best they've ever been, and _now_ all of a sudden he wants me back in the chair?" She snorted derisively. "Don't make me laugh. Especially since you and Admiral Zevil are well-known for plotting together, _and_ you both tried to get me back in the chair yourself."

Lydana stared at her in tense silence for a moment, sipping her spiced tea, then gave a slow nod.

"Okay, you're right," she said softly. "And I'm not sorry about it. When we tell you that you're need out there, we aren't lying - the threats we face are only growing, and we need every available captain we can get our hands on. You have more than enough experience, but above that you can be more than you are-"

"I think I'm plenty, thank you," Azhasca cut in. "I've done a damn good job here, and I was going to continue that until you and Zevil interfered."

"Better this than wallowing in your own misery," Lydana argued, then raised a hand to stop any further comment from Azhasca. "And you are, before you try arguing with me. And while this discourse is immensely fascinating, I have your first mission."

Azhasca bit back a curse, clenching her jaw tight. If she'd been assigned a mission, there was no backing down now.

"Fine. What is it?"

Lydana began walking, beckoning for Azhasca to follow.

"Tell me Captain, what do you know of the _Europa_-class ships?"

Azhasca frowned, mildly confused.

"They're...a new class of heavy battlecruiser, designed to function as a fleet flagship. Named after the USS _Europa_, captained by Admiral Anderson, lost at the Battle of the Binary Stars. Why are you asking me about a-"

Azhasca stopped in her tracks, mouth wide open as she saw the vast ship pulling into dock. Comprising a large saucer section with four huge warp nacelles, mounted in a traditional two-up-two-down configuration, the _Europa-_class was even more massive than she had heard. It was a cleaner design than its namesake, being made with 25th century materials and streamlined to reflect the modern design aesthetic, but no less imposing.

"The USS _Phoenix_," Lydana announced. "I thought the name rather fitting, given her new captain."

Azhasca looked at her, dumbfounded.

"Me?! You're giving that to _me?!_"

Lydana nodded.

"You have the experience to handle it. Plus, we needed to give you something that can handle itself in a fight."

"Why?"

"We've lost contact with Starbase 82. We want you to head over there and find out what's happened, and if there's a chance it was enemy action...there are more than two hundred people on that station. We need to know."

"And exact revenge if they've been killed?"

"I prefer the term 'retribution', has a really nice ring to it, but yes."

Azhasca stared at the giant vessel - her vessel, now - and nodded slowly.

"Fine. I'll see what's going on. But don't expect me to come back sane."

With that, she marched away from Lydana, heading down the corridor to the boarding tube for her new command.


End file.
